


What happens on the farm...

by msxylda



Series: Darcy comes home [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msxylda/pseuds/msxylda
Summary: Thor feels bad about leaving the Barton farm so quickly during Age of Ultron and goes to make his apologies. He wants Jane and Darcy to come with him.The only thing is, Darcy has a pretty good reason not to go.Thor, though, doesn't like to take no for an answer.And it turns out her reason isn't much of a reason at all...(Story updated Tuesdays and Thursdays)





	1. Texting is easier than talking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purplesmurf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesmurf/gifts).



> This is the setup for the series. Sorry we're not to the good stuff yet, purplesmurf, but I promise we'll get there.

To Jane: I just don’t understand why I have to go

From Jane: Because the last time he was there, Thor had to leave right away. He feels like he spit in the face of their hospitality. He’s had guilt over it ever since. And you know how Thor is with feelings. Especially guilt.

To Jane: I get that. I even understand why YOU have to go with the big guy. What I want to know is why *I* have to go.

From Jane: …

From Jane: I thought you liked Clint

To Jane: Sort of the problem.

From Jane: …

From Jane: I don’t understand

_“Because I never told you…” Darcy mutters at her phone in her most disgruntled tone. It was her secret shame, and it was supposed to remain her secret shame until the day she died. But thanks to her super science BFF and her basically brother demigod of thunder, she was going to have to fess up._

_Or go to the farm._

_Fess up._

_Farm._

_Fess up._

_Farm._

_“Oh fuck it.”_

To Jane: I sort of stuck my tongue down his throat.

From Jane: BUT HE’S MARRIED.

To Jane: Well I know that now! I didn’t know it then, though.

From Jane: well obviously you can’t go.

To Jane: See?

From Jane: If he’s a cheating cheater from cheaterland, I don’t even want to go.

_“Oh, Janey…”_

_To let her think ill of Clint, or explain._

_Ill._

_Explain._

_Ill…_

_“Fuckaduck.”_

To Jane: He didn’t cheat.

From Jane: But you said you made out….

From Jane: I know you think kissing doesn’t count.

To Jane: I only said that about Ian because I didn’t want to feel bad that he wasn’t interested.

From Jane: But I don’t feel the same

To Jane: And I never said we made out. 

To Jane: I said I kissed him.

To Jane: And he did not reciprocate.

To Jane: I mouth assaulted him.

To Jane: And he kindly, but firmly, rebuffed my advances.

From Jane: Oh Darce

To Jane: Because no one wants Darcy.

From Jane: That’s not true! 

From Jane: Clint was married!

From Jane: This is actually a good thing!!

To Jane: Sure, Clint is married.

To Jane: But Ian wasn’t.

To Jane: Michael wasn’t.

To Jane: David wasn’t.

To Jane: I know damn good and well Agent Coulson wasn’t…

From Jane: Did you kiss him before or after Clint?

To Jane: Why does that matter?

From Jane: Well if it was after… maybe he thought you were using him as a rebound.

To Jane: Oh.

To Jane: Ohhhhhhh….

From Jane: See?

To Jane: Still…

From Jane: No, you’re right. I’ll talk to Thor.

*30 minutes later*

From Jane: Um… slight miscalculation.

To Jane: Why is it raining here?

From Jane: Well….

To Jane: What did you do?

From Jane: You see….

To Jane: Was that a red cape that just flew past my window?

From Jane: The thing is…

To Jane: He’s here. 

From Jane: Yeah.

To Jane: He’s here and he looks sad.

From Jane: He misses you!

To Jane: How am I supposed to tell sad Thor no?

From Jane: If you figure it out, let me know. I promised to take Sif to a spa.

From Jane: SIF TO A SPA!

To Jane: Let me come with you and I’ll go to the farm.

From Jane: Done!

To Jane: Oh god, I didn’t even need to hear you squeal. 

To Jane: Thor just did.

To Jane: And jumped and clapped.

To Jane: And I think mew-mew purred.

From Jane: That was probably Thor.

From Jane: He does that when he’s happy.

To Jane: …

From Jane: Too far?

To Jane: light years past too far.

To Jane: When we go to the spa, you’re paying.

To Jane: And you’re inviting Fandral.

From Jane: I thought you weren’t interested in Fandral…

To Jane: I’m not… I just want to see him in a seaweed wrap.

From Jane: Oh god…

To Jane: I know…


	2. Airport Awkwardness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has arrived at the airport, but her luggage hasn’t. Now she just has to wait for Thor to acquire a chariot appropriate for them before she can run to the local big box to get some clothing and get this shit show started.

“Darce, seriously—“ Jane started, but Darcy cut her off with a rude hand gesture. She’d already dealt with thirty minutes of this, and she was just done. Already. It was going to be a long fucking weekend. 

All she wanted to do now was sit on her suitcase and wait for Thor to come back and take them to their rental car. Except, oh wait, she couldn’t sit on her suitcase. Her suitcase was lost. Gone. Poof. Rerouted to who knows where to be returned half past never.

A long mother-fucking weekend.

Now before she went to the farm owned by the agent she once frenched _and his wife_ she was going to have to stop at Wal-Mart and pick up some emergency clothing. Stuff that wouldn’t break the budget and yet was still attractive. Not, you know, too attractive, but decent. 

Oh who cared? Anything would be an improvement over the ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants she’d flown in. She’d been planning on changing into her favorite sundress, but no….

She tapped her foot impatiently as she scanned the crowd once more for Thor. Not that it really needed a proper scanning, the man was seventeen feet of demigod and kind of stood out in a crowd. What with his thundering voice and not quite grasping the “strange Midgardian customs.”

Wait.

“Why is Thor getting the rental?” She asked, eying her friend quizzically. Surely either of the two of them would’ve been a better candidate. Even with them dealing with the case of the missing baggage. She loved Thor, really just adored him, and he had the training and bearing of the prince he was, but princes rarely rented cars.

“What rental?” Jane asked, looking up from the scientific journal she’d pulled from her suitcase. The one that had managed to make it all the way to their destination with them. A large grin broke out on her face and she started flailing her little stick arms around like crazy. “There they are now.” 

“They?” Darcy asked, a knot already forming in her stomach. Sure enough, when she turned she found herself watching the seas part for the glorious blond bombshell. The one held in a one armed embrace by a booming Thunder Prince. 

Well fuck.

“Brother Barton!” Thor boomed when he was in spitting distance. Darcy had a moment to snicker at the image of Clint dressed as a monk. It was a good look for him. 

She bit her lip to stop from outright laughing. Based on the quirked lips and slightly raised eyebrow Clint was throwing her way, though, she hadn’t done a perfect job of hiding the emotion. Damn that secret agent man.

“May I present to you my fair maiden, the Lady Jane.” Jesus fuck, she was going to lose it. Especially if Clint kept using that damn eyebrow to talk to her. An eyebrow should not be that expressive. And yet, there his was, rising and dropping to communicate increasing disbelief and mirth with every passing moment. 

This was bad.

“Dr. Foster,” Clint said as he offered his hand, the eyebrow shuddering a bit and Darcy just knew it was with the effort to not call her a maiden. Fair or otherwise. 

How? They’d only known each other for a short period of time in New Mexico. How could he possibly be this familiar?

“Agent Barton,” Jane tittered. Not that Darcy could blame her. While she and Clint had been having a verbose discussion with facial expressions he’d leaned over the scientist’s hand and brushed a quick kiss over her knuckles. If this was what he had in store for Darcy, she might very well swoon.

“Not Agent, not anymore…” he said, his eyebrows taking on a sad slant. “Please, just call me Clint.”

“Of course, my apolo—“ In one of those moments where Thor proved he was not the meathead everyone believed him to be, he cut Jane off and redirected the conversation down what, he thought, would be a less awkward conversation.

“And the sister of my heart,” Thor said with a huge grinning smile as he gestured to Darcy. “The Lady—“

Clint stepped forward and took her hand, his eyebrows asking permission. She offered a brief nod, and then Clint was scrapping a low bow over her knuckles. It served the dual purpose of making her knees weak, and hiding the rest of the interaction with his body. 

And what an interaction.

He seamlessly flipped her hand over, and pressed a kiss into her wrist. His lips were firm and warm, his breath ghosting over her tender flesh. “Lady Darcy,” he murmured into her skin.

Oh… oh she was so fucked.

“Clint,” she gasped out, not quite sure if it was a rebuttal or an offer. Thankfully it sounded enough like a friendly greeting that Thor just kept on grinning. As Clint finally stood, he wrapped both of them in a firm embrace. 

“But of course, I had forgotten. You two would have met after the battle with the destroyer.”

Yes, yes they had. Then Darcy had frenched the fucker and he’d rebuffed her because he was married and they were about to go to his house with his wife and their children. It was not the reminder she wanted as she was pressed firmly against his pectoral muscle with his bicep rubbing against her breast and what was that against her stomach?

What was that against her stomach?

She wiggled a bit in Thor’s embrace to try and ascertain what, exactly, it was. All she was able to determine was that it was hard, hot, and huge. But it couldn’t possibly be…

It just couldn’t…

Because that would mean…

She squawked and shimmied out of Thor’s firm hug before throwing a wide eyed look at Clint. A very, very bashful looking Clint. One who’s eyebrows were practically screaming at her in neon lights “sorry for my ill-timed boner.”

And fuck her if that look wasn’t the most adorable thing she’d ever seen in her Thor-forsaken life. Oh, this was going to be the longest mother-fucking weekend ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now looking for a beta reader since I don't know how to proof my own work and tend to post while tired.


	3. Ultimate Darcy – Perfect Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy discovers that as much as she wants to dislike Laura (for being married to her major crush) she can’t be. Laura’s just too damn perfect.

The meeting at the airport had seemed to be an ill omen, and things just went downhill from there.

For starters, Clint had a truck. 

Of course Clint had a truck, he lived on a farm. And of course it was one of those old as shit ones with one not quite long enough bench seat. Thor, realizing this would be something of a problem offered to “fly ahead so he could survey the land” so that all four wouldn’t be crammed in. 

Naturally, he only made this offer once Darcy had already slid into the middle, not wanting to be between Thor and Jane. Ever. For any reason. Those two were like magnets. Couldn’t keep their hands off each other, no matter what or who was there in the camper. Or on the other end of the couch. Or directly between them in the cab of the truck.

So she got to spend the hour long trip from the airport out to the boonies over a series of progressively worsening back roads so close to Clint that she could feel his heat seeping into her side. When she wasn’t actively being jostled into him, anyway. In those moments it wasn’t so much being warmed by him, but being electrocuted by a live wire.

It was hell.

And it only got worse.

The kids were, of course, adorable. The two older ones charged them as soon as they arrived climbing Clint like a tree. Not that he seemed to notice. No, he just used his archer biceps of doom to haul them up, toss them around, and tickle them. 

Honestly, it was like he was juggling his own children.

And they all squealed and laughed and Darcy’s heart just shattered. He was so sweet. He was such a good dad. He was so totally gorgeous. And he was so totally married.

As evident by his wife walking out the door with their baby in her arms. And wasn’t that just a punch to the gut because: “She’s basically me, but perfect. She’s Darcy Prime. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.” She was on the back porch with Jane, pacing as she ranted after a long and awkward dinner.

Well, awkward for her at any rate. 

The kids were like heat seeking missiles to biological clocks making you crave children when you’d always been disturbed by even the idea of procreating before. And, of course, Clint was still communicating via eyebrow, lip quirks, and sexy as fuck dimples. Now, Darcy wasn’t fluent in secret agent man, but she was nearly positive the bastard was flirting. Or mocking her. Right there. In front of his perfect wife. Who was, again, the supreme version of Darcy.

Laura was kinder than Darcy. Thinner than Darcy. Taller than Darcy. More put together than Darcy. She was sweeter than honey and snarky enough to keep her super hero husband in line. She was stunning. And if she was Darcy’s wife, Darcy wouldn’t dream of ever looking at anyone else.

So why, oh why, was Clint doing… whatever he was doing? The mocking flirting thing. Didn’t he realize what he had? The perfect woman was right there. Right there!

Unless… unless she was all imagining it. Or worse… “Did I die?” She asked, mostly serious. “Did I die in London or in New Mexico and this is my own personal hell?”

There was no response. There hadn’t been for the majority of her freak out. Not that she could really blame Jane. She had been saying basically the same thing for the past thirty minutes. Laura is so great. Laura is so perfect. If Laura were unwed, I would take her in a manly fashion.

“This must be hell,” she wailed, “me being attracted to both parties in a marriage.” She had to admit it, at least to Jane. Then when she went to bed tonight she could go back to having a complete lack of self-awareness. 

It was going to be glorious.

Until then, she was going to whine and curse until she was blue in the face. Starting with, “fuck you, bisexuality.” 

“You’re bisexual?” A hopeful voice sounded from the back door. Darcy whirled, her eyes wide, and then cursed as she found a distinctive silhouette blocking the light. And only the silhouette. At some point, Jane had abandoned her and now she was going to have to deal with this all on her own.

God, she hated Jane sometimes.

Drawing in a deep breath and raising herself to her full height, she prepared to do battle. “Yeah, I am. That going to be a problem?” Thankfully she had every argument memorized from years of previous fights. Yes, she was sure. No, she wasn’t just playing it safe. No, she wasn’t just a slut. No, she wasn’t just—

“Course not. Laura is too.”

Of course. Of course Laura was bisexual too. This farm really was hell. Not that she could say that out loud, obviously. Not without tipping her hand. So instead, she offered up a rather flat “ah.”

And then the night took all the previous awkward and cranked it up to eleven with the two of them just standing there. Starring at each other. In the sort of romantic setting of back porch with only the moon light and the soft light sneaking out from the kitchen.

Hell.

Clint broke the silence with a cough before running his hand through his hair. “So, uh, Laura wanted to let you know you could borrow some of her things.” Like you, Darcy wondered. “At least until you can run into town. Or, you know, even if you don’t want to. You’re about the same size, so her stuff should fit.”

Right. Clothing. That made more sense. And it would be nice to get out of her comfy travel clothes that were becoming less and less comfortable by the second. Not to mention more and more funky. So yeah, she could borrow something from Laura. Even if her normal clothing wouldn’t fit, she probably still had some maternity clothing kicking around.

And then right after she put on the elastic waist pants of the glorious creature married to Muscles McHotBod she could kill herself. They could even bury her in those clothes.

She was going to kill Jane just as soon as she found where the scientist had gotten to, even if she had to take the damn rainbow bridge to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for a beta reader...
> 
> Also I've learned that I run on kudos and comments. So, you know, be a pal and throw me a kudos? If not, at least repeatedly hit the story. I mean check the story so it has hits... DON'T HIT MY BABY!


	4. Mistakes were made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has her first moments alone with Laura, and learns something important about what- and who- she wants.

She was wrong. So wrong. The ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants with the dying elastic were fine. SO fine that she was going to wear them for the rest of her life. Forever. Eventually her skin would grow around it and she would become some new kind of being. A new lifeform spawned from awkwardness. She would be called Homo Spazectus. 

Unless she actually was in hell. Which she was still kind of rooting for.

After a few more awkward moments on the porch with Clint, and the dancing around each other to let her back in the house, she’d headed upstairs to the master bedroom. Mistake number one. 

Laura was there, pulling a few things out of her closet. The closet full of comfortable clothing and practical clothing with a smattering of funky clothing mixed in. Basically, her closet if she ever settled down, got married, and had kids. It was like looking at what her life could be, if she got her own spyman. Or spywoman. Or…

Mistake number two, losing focus.

Laura finally caught sight of her and offered up a warm and open smile before gesturing at the bed. “Those should all fit you,” she said in her sultry voice. By this point, Darcy had determined she didn’t even try for it to be sexy, it just was. She just was. The evil shrew.

Going for sultry herself, she replied “they your old maternity clothes?” 

It sounded awful. Choked and cracking with a slight wince thrown in from when Darcy realized she was an idiot halfway through.

Laura just laughed, her eyes crinkling as she did. “Oh you,” she said and swatted her on the hip as she walked past and headed for the en suite. “Go ahead and try them on,” she called from the other room, her voice echoing in the perfect bathroom acoustics. “Just to make sure.”

Darcy pulled her shirt up and over her head-mistake number three- just in time for little Nat to start crying. Darcy looked from the shirt in her hand, to the baby, to the bathroom. Shirt, baby, bathroom. Shirt, baby—

“Momma’s coming,” Laura called and Darcy panicked.

And then Darcy made mistake number four. 

“I’ve got her,” she squeaked, dropping the shirt and lunging for the bassinet. She carefully picked up the infant and nuzzled her against her chest, making soothing little noises as she checked the baby’s diaper. “She’s not wet,” she told Laura as she continued to coo. “And she’s not stinky.”

In fact, Darcy mused, she was perfect. Warm and soft and smelling of baby powder. Holding her to her chest, her nearly bare chest, ignited something primal in her. Brought back that longing for a baby she’d first experienced before dinner.

Oh, how she wanted. Not just this life, but _this_ life with this family. Wanting was mistake number five.

Being distracted by mistake number five was mistake number six.

“She’s probably…” her voice was hoarse and closer than Darcy had been expecting. “She’s probably just hungry.” Long fingers reached down for little Nat, brushing against the bare flesh of her breast above her bra. 

There was another warm sensation filling her, but it had less to do with babies, and more to deal with girl/girl feelings. Mistake number seven.

As she took the baby, Laura’s knuckles skated over her chest once more prompting Darcy to swallow thickly. Definitely girl/girl feelings. Ones that did not improve when Laura lifted off her own shirt. It was wrong, Darcy knew, to be oogling a breast feeding mother. So wrong. She was a lecher and a pervert. This was clearly mistake number eight. Yet, she still watched as Laura freed one breast from her nursing bra and Nat began to suckle.

Her whole body felt hot and tight, like her insides had expanded too much for her skin. Any second, she was going to burst as she watched this magnificent creature breast feed her little angel. And when she noted that Laura was watching her and her reactions...

Mistake number nine.

Darcy’s legs gave out, causing her to collapse on the edge of the bed.

This was… What was this? Besides so, so wrong and far, far too much. Darcy didn’t know, and before she could find the courage to ask, she grabbed the pile of clothes, uttered her thanks, and fled the room. Mistake number ten. Not that she was paying attention to where she was going- mistake number eleven. She was looking back over her shoulder waiting to see if Laura would follow her. Both hoping she would and praying she wouldn’t.

Mistake number twelve.

So she didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone in the hallway. She never noticed that she rushed past Clint as she bolted to the other bathroom. And she completely missed the look of longing he threw after her.

Well, at least she’d made a baker’s dozen mistakes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. Still looking for a beta. Still crave your kudos and comments.
> 
> Much love,   
> Ginny


	5. Pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy isn't crying into her pillow. She isn't...

Darcy was not crying into her pillow. Was. Not. Because that would be absurd, crying into her pillow over the life she didn’t have. 

So she wasn’t. Because she wasn’t absurd.

She was crying into Clint and Laura’s pillows over the life she didn’t have. In their den, because she didn’t even rate getting her own guest bedroom with a door. No, Jane and Thor got that. And based on Jane’s little chirps, there was a valid reason the power couple got a door.

Darcy was still going to be bitter over it, though. That and the fact that she was crying into pillows that were soft and downy and as perfect as the marriage that she…

She broke out into fresh sobs and buried her face, desperate to not attract the attention of the Barton children. Or worse, the Barton adults. There was no way she could explain this. No, instead she was just going to have to make up some excuse first thing in the morning to get the hell out of dodge.

Maybe she could see if Erik would call and say he needed her.

No, he still wasn’t quite right since that whole Loki possession thing. It wouldn’t be fair at this point to ask him for any Thor related favors.

Maybe she could call and see if Tony would demand she come back into the office.

But then she’d have to explain why, and Tony would cackle. She hated Tony cackling. And even then it might not even be worth it. Tony was unpredictable at the best of times and this was not the best of time. He and Pepper were fighting more and more frequently. This prompted Tony to retreat more and more to his lab. He was becoming even worse than Jane with the whole never sleeping thing.

Besides, if she called Tony there was a chance The Black Widow would find out. Her loyalty was with Clint, so there was a ninety-nine percent chance she’d call him and let him know.

So she was left with only one option. She was going to have to call her brother. Brand would laugh, sure, but he’d call tomorrow with some made up family emergency. No made up grandmother deaths, obviously, that was too cliché. Besides, she’d already used that one three times and eventually Jane was going to notice. No one was that obtuse. She didn’t want to give her parents any fictional diseases either. Nothing that she would have to remember later. 

Plus there was always the chance that Thor would decide it was dire enough to fly her out via mew-mew as he’d just lost his own mother. He wouldn’t want Darcy to not be able to say goodbye like he wasn’t able too.

She started crying again and her resolve to not blame sick parents doubled. The guilt would kill her.

It was going to have to be something Brand needed. Nothing embarrassing though, since she needed his help. No pregnant girlfriends either, since he Thor might be able to tell. And she was nearly positive Jane knew her brother was ace and might ask questions.

If she said he needed to move, Thor might insist on helping so that they could get back faster. Especially if it was an emergency move that hinted at any sort of injustice.

What the hell did that even leave as an excuse?

_“Darcy…?”_

Again, emergency illness was out. The same rules that applied to her parents applied to her brother. Probably even more so, given the whole “my brother sacrificed himself to save me” thing. 

_“Hey, Darcy?”_

Basically, there was literally no excuse both dire enough to get her out of here while not bringing at least one Avenger with her.

_“Darcy, you mind if I come in?”_

She groaned into her pillow once more.

“Is that a yes?”

Bolting up right, she threw the pillow across the room, hitting Laura right in the face with it.

Unsure what to do, Darcy looked from the pillow to Laura’s shocked expression and back. With a half-hearted shrug, she offered up a “bullseye?” to break the tension.

For a long moment Laura just looked at her before shaking her head and chuckling. Tossing the pillow up and catching it again, she ran her tongue along her teeth. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” She asked, her voice a sultry purr.

Without giving Darcy a chance to reply, she tossed the pillow back at Darcy. She tried to catch it, but she was not known for her athleticism, so she got a face full of fluff. As she was recovering, Laura joined her on the pull out, pinning her against the back. Laura took control of the pillow once more and Darcy flinched, preparing for the inevitable pillow fight, but it never came. Instead, Laura tossed the pillow to the floor.

Confused, Darcy looked to the other woman for guidance, and was brought up short by what she saw. Kindness, mirth, a sparkle of mischief and unadulterated longing.

Basically, nothing had been cleared up.

Just like nothing was cleared up as Laura’s hand came up to palm Darcy’s cheek. Or when it skated back into her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. Not when Laura inched closer. Nor when she leaned in. It wasn’t until lips- soft, warm, and oh so sweet- pressed against her own that things started clicking into place. They still didn’t make a lot of sense, but they were there.

Laura was kissing her. Soundly. Her velvet lips moving against Darcy’s own in a rhythm that was both familiar and brand spanking new. 

Oh spanking, there was an—

Focus, Darcy, she thought. There was a reason this was a bad idea. Some reason that she should be shocked this woman was kissing her. Some reason she should be stopping this. She just had to stop thinking about the tongue that was darting into her mouth to remember. 

But it was so hard. That taunting tongue was slowly slipping in further and further. Sapping her resistence as is stole her sanity. The silky sensation was so astounding that she all she had left inside of her was a pulsing desire. One she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Not since Clint.

Clint.

It was like ice water dumped down her back, causing Darcy to break the kiss. On a rough gasp, she managed to answer Laura’s mumbled protest with that one word.

“Clint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the happiest with how this chapter or the next turned out, but there you have it. Unbeta'd as I'm still looking for a beta reader.


	6. Keruck is broken brain for...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura fills Darcy in on some rather important information she'd been missing.

“Clint,” Darcy repeated, firmer this time making it sound more like an admonishment and less like crying out a lover’s name.

Laura sat back, allowing some space between the two of them, and ran a hand through her hair.

Not, you know, a lot of space or anything. Darcy could still feel the other woman’s aura. If Thor was to be believed and people actually had those, anyway.

Judging by the vibrations she was currently experiencing, she was willing to wager it was.

Or maybe that was just her imagination. A combination of guilt and arousal making her think there was something there that wasn’t. Who the hell knew?

“This sucks,” she went to say, but Laura got there first, thoroughly confusing her. Laura wasn’t looking at her, instead scratching at her scalp while starring off at the wall. It tugged at something in Darcy, but that was all. Just a little tug. Tiny even. The Bartons did not deserve more than that, given what they were doing to her.

Finally, Laura licked her lips and turned to look at Darcy.

“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you,” she said and Darcy saw red. She was going to leave- immediately- without any help from her brother. She didn’t need him manufacturing an excuse anymore. Not with all the fuckery going on here. She went to stand and start gathering the few things she had- her phone, charger, and purse really- but Laura put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“I won’t apologize for kissing you because I’m not sorry that I did. But I do regret not talking to you about it first.” She let out a dry little laugh, tight and pained. “I swear, after being married to Clint for so long, it’s like I’ve inherited his inability to talk to other people.”

Darcy blinked. This family was fucking incredible. Well, she figured, at least it cured her of her desire to have this exact life. Who could possibly want this crazy ass bullshit?

“I’m so sorry for you,” she said, her voice high and tight with pain. “That must really suck.” She tried to pull away from the other woman, but Laura was stronger than she looked. She twisted her body so she was facing the younger woman. Her knees were against Darcy’s leg, with her other hand-the one not holding her in place- resting on her thigh.

“You know we’re polyamorous, right?” Laura asked, breaking Darcy’s brain.

“Keruck…” Darcy replied, as it was well known that Keruck was broken brain for “what the ever loving fuck? Maybe open with that next time.”

Laura’s brow wrinkled as she frowned. “Or… you could think we’re just both assholes. Great, that’s just great.”

But Darcy, frankly, thought it was pretty great. Not the asshole thing, but rather that they were poly. If they were poly, there was still a chance for her. You know, depending on how the conversations went. You know, since “Isn’t communication the key to making any relationship work, much less a poly relationship?”

Laura winced. “Yeah, like I said… Clint is—“

Darcy’s raised eyebrow drew her up short. “Oh great, now there are two of you doing that,” Laura muttered

“Doing what?”

“Communicating via eyebrow,” she replied as she nudged Darcy with a knee. Her nose had wrinkled and she had a slight smile as she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “you’re lucky I’ve been with Clint so long, I’ve learned how to translate.”

Which raised the question, “why?”

Laura rolled her eyes, doing a fair job of communicating without words herself. Still, she did offer up a verbal explanation. “Come on, I noticed you and Clint talking via eyebrow at dinner—“

“But that’s just I,” she said, cutting the other woman off. “Why don’t you care? Why are you kissing me instead of kicking me out?” It was the million-dollar question, why. God, she was starting to feel like an annoying child who couldn’t stop asking. So instead of asking all the other whys bouncing around in her head, she sat back and watched.

Laura didn’t seem to be struggling with the answers though. Not like Darcy was struggling with the questions, at any rate. Instead, she just looked at Darcy. Full on in the eyes before leaning into kiss her once more. A soft, gentle peck on the corner of her mouth, over almost before it began.

“Because you are worth it.” And just like that, Darcy was getting all misty. Laura noticed, her smile softening. “Darcy, you have to understand, when Clint came home from New Mexico he was a mess--”

Darcy sniffed before interrupting, subtly dabbing at the corner of her eyes. “Well yeah, alien gods and giant metal monsters can—“

Another peck pulled her up short. Eventually, one of them was going to have to let the other get a full sentence out… but… kisses were nice.

The soft smile was back as Laura moved away again to speak. “No, that’s not it. He’d been with S.H.I.E.L.D. awhile at that point. Weird was old hat by that point. No, Darce, he was a wreck because of you.”

“Me?” She squeaked.

“When you kissed him,” Darcy flinched, but didn’t interrupt, “he wanted to kiss you back so badly. He wanted you so badly, but… well… he was scared.”

She did interrupt then; the thought was just too absurd for her to remain quite. “Of me?” She scoffed on a little snort. “The world’s greatest marksman was scared of a political science major interning for an actual scientist?”

Laura tilted her head to the side as she considered. “Yes and no,” she began, really clearing things up. “More like what you represent.”

“Which is…?” Darcy asked, desperate to start making sense of this.

Not that Laura was willing to help…

“Oh no, you’re going to have to ask Clint about that.” She was already pulling away as she said it. Climbing off the bed and standing on the far side. “It would do him good to talk about it. I mean, with someone other than me.” And as she watched, Laura began to shut down. Wrapping her arms around herself, physically closing herself off. Whatever had happened, it clearly was not good. It was not something Darcy was going to want to know.

No, it was just something she evidently needed to know.

The Bartons really were incredible. And only mostly in a good way.

“I’ve been telling him it’s not his fault since it happened. That I never blamed him and was never going to leave him. He should hear it from you, too.” Her face wrinkled into a frown. “Assuming you do agree, that is.”

Laura smiled at little at the end, but it was clearly forced. Darcy waited for more, but none was forthcoming, so finally she asked, “you’re not going to give me any more than that to go on?”

“Sorry, Darce. You’re just going to have to go talk to him. And make sure you ask him about Sophie, or he might dodge the topic.”

She stood to leave, but Laura stopped her once more. This time with words instead of physically. She didn’t realize how much she’d preferred the hand on her arm until she was offered the alternative.

“Darcy, one more thing, I love Clint. I love him beyond all reason. You don’t have to accept what he wants, what we want, but I will ask you to let him down gently, if that’s what you decide. If you hurt him, no Thunder God will be able to protect you.”

And then all she could do was nod and offer a “fair enough” before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by Smurfy P, because they're the win. All mistakes are my own.


	7. The specter of Sophie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint tells Darcy about Sophie, prompting her to feel feelings.

Darcy found Clint in the master bedroom, of course, lying on the bed with a cloth over his eyes and one hand over the cloth. One knee is up, while the other leg is flat, his other hand resting on his stomach, tugging at the shirt and exposing a sliver of bare skin.

Basically, he was temptation personified.

She coughed, and he jolted a bit. His knee in the air began to rock, slightly, but he didn’t remove the cloth from his eyes. He didn’t see her. “I think I fucked it all up, Laur,” he said, tempting Darcy to remain quiet. To listen to the private things he planned to tell his wife.

But that wouldn’t help anything. Not if she wanted… and despite everything- because of everything?- she did still want. So communication, honest and open, would be key.

Luckily for her, it was Clint who would have to be honestly open first. “Tell me about Sophie,” she said, her voice soft and pleading.

Clint really jolted at that, sitting up and letting the cloth slip from his face. He looked troubled, the expression on his face thunderstruck. He croaked out a little “Darcy” as one hand reached for her. As soon as it hit his line of sight, though, he squinted at the appendage and let it fall into his lap.

Cautiously, she stepped into the room. “Sophie, Clint,” she whispered as she approached the bed. “I need you to tell me about Sophie.”

He muttered under his breath, something about Laura, before clearing his throat and unleashing a story Darcy would later decide she did not want to know. Needed to, perhaps, but didn’t want to. She would remember the anguish held tight in his carefully monotone voice. Remember the way that he looked only at his hands as he twirled his wedding band around his finger.

She wouldn’t remember when she sat down. Wouldn’t remember when she wrapped her arms around him. When he turned away from her, protecting himself. When she buried her head between her shoulder blades.

But those details were irrelevant.

It was his narrative that would haunt her dreams.

“Laura and Sophie were already together when I met them, at some bar I don’t even remember the name of. Laura probably does, she’s like that about things. They picked me up… oh don’t look at me like that, they did. They wanted a bad boy for a weekend… but when the weekend ended I just never left. And the three of us, we became a thing.

“Now, the thing you need to understand is that back then I wasn’t a good man. But slowly, because of Laura and Sophie, I became one. Or, at least, I started becoming one. So much so that when Coulson found me and offered me a job, I took it. I wanted to become worthy of them.

“But that wasn’t what Sophie wanted.

“She didn’t want to be stuck on this farm to stay safe while I was out on missions. She didn’t want to be waiting at home for me not knowing if I was going to come home at all. So one day when I left on a mission, she tried to convince Laura to leave with her. To just be gone when I got home.

“Laura told her it was stupid to just leave, that I could just find them again if I wanted. S.H.I.E.L.D. had the resources to make that happen. Sophie, though, Sophie knew me in a way Laura didn’t. She knew I was always just waiting for them to leave. Knowing that I didn’t deserve a good life, and was just waiting for it to get snatched away from me.

“Or worse, for it to walk away.

“She knew I wouldn’t go after them… and she explained that to Laura. She begged and she pleaded, and Laura told her that she didn’t want to go. She was happy here.

“Sophie told her she was leaving, with or without Laura.

“Laura told her she was staying, with or without Sophie. That she loved me.

“So Sophie left. And Laura stayed. And it’s all my fault.”

Darcy was crying, leaving wet spots in the back of Clint’s tight grey shirt, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was this man. This man and convincing Thor to help her find this Sophie character so she could taze the fuck out of the other woman.

When she was reasonably sure she could speak without shaking apart, she managed to state, “so that’s what this is all about.”

Her voice sounded as if she’d swallowed glass.

Clint sounded relieved as he hissed out a “yes” and Darcy’s insides were destroyed by a flash fire of emotions. One second they were there, the next there was nothing but ash. Well, at least that cleared things up for her. And who knew, perhaps someday in the distant future something could grow from the ashes.

“It’s not your fault, Clint,” she told him as she blinked away fresh tears. “You’re not to blame because Sophie didn’t want to stay.”

“But I—“ He started as he tried to turn around, but Darcy wouldn’t let him go.

“No Clint. If Sophie had wanted to make it work, she would have. She didn’t, and that’s okay. Sometimes…” she choked again, her throat thick with emotion. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, and there’s no one to blame for it. You’re not to blame for it.” He choked on a little sob, and finally managed to buck Darcy off. Not that he let her get far. Instead, he pulled her around so she was sitting on his lap, burying his head in her hair as he did. “But I’m not Sophie, Clint.”

“I know that,” he whispered into her hair, his breath hot against her neck. It made her shiver, and her resolve almost buckled. Almost. But while she was willing to do nearly whatever it took, there was one thing she could not do.

One line she couldn’t cross.

One final hurt that she would protect the charred remains of her heart from. “And I cannot just be the replacement Sophie you get your wife—“

Clint pulled back so quickly Darcy nearly fell from his lap, leaving her to scrabble for purchase. “What? No!”

Thankfully, nearly being bucked from the bed did little to shake her resolve “--because you feel like you owe her a girlfriend.”

“Darcy, no!” He insisted, wrapping her in his strong arms.

They were hot and heavy, and it made her feel safe and protected, cherished even, but it was all a lie. And so she tried to extract herself from Clint’s clutches, needing to get away from him. Saying goodbye was hard enough without his delicious biceps encouraging her to stay. “So in the morning,” she began, wiggling as much as she was able, “I’m going to have Laura take me into town, and I’d appreciate it if—“

“Damn it, Darcy,” he cursed as he twisted her around so he could speak directly into her face. “I know you’re not Sophie.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course he did, didn’t mean that—

“I never loved Sophie.” She snorted. “I do love you!”

Her brain broke again, and this time she wondered if all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would ever be able to put her back together again.

It had been a really long day.

“Keruck…” she said. Apparently it was broken brain for many things, depending on the context. And right now it was “what the fuck is this fuckery?”

“I love you,” he repeated with so much conviction she almost believed him. Oh, how she wanted to believe him.

The only problem was… “You don’t—“ know me. She had wanted to finish that thought with know me. Clint, however, was not eager to let her, attacking her lips with a lightning strike kiss to stop her.

Just flash, bang, kiss over.

The hell!

“Don’t. Don’t say I don’t know you. I know you Darcy. I spent the entire time we were in New Mexico watching you. Wanting you. And now that I finally have a chance with you I’m not just going to let you walk away.”

“But you just said—“

Another kiss, this one like a snake bite. Lunging in and slaying her before she had a chance to resign herself to her doom.

This was entirely unfair. He wasn’t letting the king’s horses or the king’s men put her brain back together. He wasn’t letting her do anything. He wasn’t even kissing her long enough to let her react.

“Yeah, well clearly I was wrong about myself, because I’m not just letting you drive off into the sunset.”

“It would’ve been sunrise, technically…”

The third kiss Clint gave her wasn’t a quick. It was something else entirely. A growling, biting thing as he took her down and slaughtered her ability to think. Prey in the hawk’s clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to purplesmurf for being the best beta eva.


	8. Seriously, how is there more talking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally there was going to be smexing here, but Clint and Darcy needed to communicate more and by the time I got to around 600 words I realized that the sex would have to be rushed, and they deserve better.
> 
> Sex next chapter folks, I promise.

She knew she should stop him. She knew she should. There were reasons. Very good ones. Talking. Or something. It was hard to remember in the wake of his stubble rubbing abrading the skin of her neck as he licked and nipped his way from one shoulder to the other.

She hadn’t even known she was into stubble.

Damn Clint Barton… Damn him and his kisses straight to hell. The kisses and the arms. Stupid muscular bands of doom keeping her in place so he could torment her and…

Release her suddenly.

Pulling back, he sighed against her flesh. She shuddered and blinked her eyes open, wondering when she closed them. Clint looked even more forlorn now than he had before the kissing. Before his hand had somehow ended up under her shirt and hers found their way to his pecs.

They were really nice pecs too. Not that she squeezed them, or anything. Or still was a little bit.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice…

He gave a soft chuckle as he used his free hand to tear at his own hair. She was disappointed in herself that she wished it was her hair he was pulling. Disappointed, and a little not.

“I know,” he said- his voice hoarse, “I know that this is wrong.” She stiffened slightly before abruptly shuffling off his lap. Even though it meant releasing his tits. He didn’t let her go far though, as his hand was still under her shirt. Hot and heavy against her lower back, fingers clasping at the waist of her pants. They were still pressed together in several places, so really her situation hadn’t improved. Actually, it would be far easier now for him to just throw her on her back and—

Bad brain, she scolded herself, bad.

“I know that I should give you a chance to speak your mind.” He was flustered, she could tell by the rigid way he held himself and the clipped way in which he was speaking. “I know I shouldn’t try to silence you or coerce you by kissing you. Shouldn’t try to take away your agency with seduction, but damn it Darcy, you intimidate the fuck out of me.”

It was another keruck situation, clearly, but Darcy managed to piece together words. “Me?”

Well, one word. But it wasn’t keruck, so she was counting it as a win.

“Yeah, you. You’re smart and funny and kind and I’m an ex-carnie who barely has a GED and whose only marketable skill involves using a piece of wood and a string to fling smaller bits of wood at people until they die.”

There was so much wrong with that statement she didn’t even know where to begin. So she went with the least obvious option. “Your bow and arrows were personally designed by Tony Stark. They’re more high tech than the space station.”

Best to keep things relevant, she thought to herself, and pat herself on the back.

Except none of that. Not even internally.

Instead, she winced which prompted him to chuckle. Well, to huff out some air that sounded somewhat similar to a chuckle, anyway. “I mean, you’re more than just an archer, Clint. You’re a great man. One I’m lucky to be in bed with…”

She trailed off as she considered her words. They hadn’t been the ones she’d wanted, dirtier and far more suggestive than she’d intended, but there was a glint in Clint’s eyes so she couldn’t really bring herself to be upset about it. Sure, they still needed to talk. Sure, she still had her doubts. Yes, she might regret this come morning, but …

He told her he didn’t want to coerce her and take away her agency before saying she was wonderful. He didn’t believe he was wonderful. He had really nice tits and she was so close to them she could practically taste them…

With that mental image, her carefully crafted arguments went out the window. To hell with tomorrow, she was going to take tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to smurfy again for helping me when I desperately need it.


	9. Chapter nine: On the Barton farm there is a… brown chicken and a brown cow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Clint and Darcy get to the sexing.
> 
> Mostly…

Darcy was ninety-nine percent sure she had started the kissing. She could almost remember diving for Clint and fusing her mouth to his like some kind of leech. So how she’d ended up flat on her back with Clint over here was anyone’s guess. How he’d managed to dig his hands into her hair and tug just right to expose the line of her neck…

How he’d known that attacking her neck with his five o’clock shadow scratching her raw caused her entire body to wind tighter and tighter…

How he’d turned her into an archer by getting her to arch her back…

Okay, she thought, that pun was terrible. She decided not to judge herself too harshly, though, since Clint was giving her all of the hickies. It was sort of a life changing experience.

Still she wasn’t going to let herself be too distracted. She was Darcy Lewis, damn it, and she was going to seize the day. By seizing Clint. Something she set about doing with one hand grasping at his firm pectoral muscle and the other…

Well, it had been going for his ass, but it got to his bicep and stuck there. The thing was out of this world. She could spend hours tracing it- preferably with her tongue. She probably would have had he not chuckled at her distraction right before nipping at her pulse point.

The action caused her to lurch, her pelvis leaving the bed and rubbing against him. The friction- combined with his oral ministrations to her neck- were heaven. Darcy was a big fan of reaching heaven via the bedroom, so she set about getting more of that delicious sensation. Hooking one leg around his thigh, she pulled him closer.

And when they were near enough to rub against each other, Darcy made a delicious discovery.

He was hard. Which wasn’t shocking, to be fair. Honestly by that point in the frantic necking session if he hadn’t been excited she’d have been offended. No, what snapped Darcy out of her crazed need to rut was the fact that he was thick.

Like… seriously thick.

She couldn’t tell how long he was, not using only her thigh and through both their pants, but she could tell it was something of a monster. That or he was, for some reason, keeping a molten hot bar of gold in his pants.

Which, maybe.

Who knew why spies did anything.

There was really only one thing for a curious girl to do.

She grabbed for the fly of his pants, snagging a nail and tearing it in the process. She felt no pain, though, which did not bode well for when the endorphins wore off. Oh well, that was a problem for future Darcy. The one after the sexing. And fuck that bitch; she’d gotten an orgasm recently.

So she didn’t let the torn fingernail slow her down, instead focusing only on getting his button fly open.

“Who the fuck has a button fly...” she muttered, without actually meaning to because she gave exactly zero fucks about the answer.

“Someone who was not planning on getting laid tonight,” Clint huffed in a defensive tone.

Darcy rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond. It didn’t matter what he’d been planning, not when he was clearly smuggling The Hulk underneath those buttons. She’d tear the damn things off if she had to.

His own hands moved lower. Not to help her, but with a destination all their own. Which was about the time Darcy remembered a rather important fact.

“So, um… Clint…” She started as she tried to forestall his momentum without losing her own. “The thing is I lost my luggage.”

“I remember,” he said as his hand dipped past the waistband of her pants to discover… “Oh.”

“I only have one pair of underwear with me,” she explained in as rapid a manner as she could, “and I’d been wearing them all day while traveling so I had to take them off and I didn’t have anything to change into and dammit I wasn’t expecting this…”

“So… you’ll be going commando for your entire visit?” Clint asked, his voice hoarse.

“Well, until someone can take me to a store to buy—“

“There’s no need for something so drastic,” he said, cutting her off as his callous fingers danced across her skin slowly dipping lower and lower. “I like knowing you’re not wearing any underwear.”

After what felt like an eternity, his fingers finally parted her. His callused index and middle fingers skated her clit, rubbing maddeningly against her lips and causing her to whimper. There was no way his rough fingers should be doing anything that felt that good. She should be smacking his hand away.

She always made her gentlemen callers moisturize.

With Clint, though… With Clint she craved a rougher edge with her pleasure. The stubble, the calluses, the fact that he was a god damned assassin. Fucking hell, everything about him was more dangerous.

She loved it.

As he teased and tormented her, she began to lose herself to the sensations. She was going under, being enveloped by the thick fog of lust and ensuing orgasm. And there was something that she had to do. Something that…

She canted her hips, her thigh once again pressing against his hard length and regained some of her focus. She wanted to touch him. Needed to touch him. Wanted to get him off with her hands as he slowly took her apart with his own. Somehow, she managed to get his stupid button fly open and parted enough to drag him out.

He wasn’t overly long- somewhere between five and six inches- but what he lacked in length, he more than made up for in girth. She wasn’t fully able to close her fingers around it. Not even when she tried using only her thumb and middle finger.

“Dear god,” she whispered in the hushed and reverent tone that this symbol of virility deserved. “I want you in me, stretching me.” Clint groaned into her neck at her words, his fingers circling her just as she was circling his head. “I need you in me, taking me apart. I have to have you filling me Clint.”

There was another groan, as she continued to babble and work the tip of his cock. Teasing the slit, rubbing at the glands, trying to memorize it inch by glorious inch. “You’d stuff me so full I’d feel you for days. Weeks even. I might not even be able to sit.”

She worked his shaft as his fingers made for her opening. Not fully entering her, the rat bastard, just teasing at her entrance. Almost pulling at it, as if to stretch it so she could be stuffed full. She keened at the idea.

“I wonder if I’d be able to swallow you,” she wondered, picturing herself drooling as she tried to take him in her throat. Even if she was able to, there’d be no way she could close her mouth. Her eyes would surely water. Maybe she’d even wear cheap mascara to heighten the impact. She’d certainly drool all over her face and onto her tits…

Her tits…

“God, I want this thing between my tits,” she mused. “I want you to fuck them with this monster until you come all over my face…”

He clearly liked the idea, as well, because he groaned out a “fuck, Darce,” before covering her hand as she twisted on the upstroke.

As he was still pulsing in her hand, he finally allowed his fingers to enter her fully. Twisting and hooking on that spot just inside her as his thick thumb worked her nub. “Baby, I will fuck you whenever, however, wherever you want…” he promised as he worked her. “Just so long as you keep using that filthy fucking mouth of yours.”

“You always did like dirty talk,” came from the doorway. And when Darcy looked up and found Laura Barton watching them, her eyes full of hunger and lust, she fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Smurfy for betaing my insanity.


End file.
